


Breakfast of Champions

by becauseISaidSo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Flonks, Smut, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 13:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14021118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseISaidSo/pseuds/becauseISaidSo
Summary: This was written as part of my tumblr follower celebration.  It's dedicated to NachoDiablo and our shared love of Fleur/Tonks.





	Breakfast of Champions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NachoDiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/gifts).



> This was written as part of my tumblr follower celebration. It's dedicated to NachoDiablo and our shared love of Fleur/Tonks.

She’d left another one of her lace bras lying around again. Tonks picked the thing up in exasperation. For an article of clothing that probably cost something like 25 galleons, leaving it around the flat haphazard-like was not exactly treating Mr. french designer Posh Posh with any sort of respect. She draped the thing over the handle of Fleur’s bedroom door for her to find in the morning and went back to the boring chore of picking things off the floor she’d be likely to trip on later.

The next morning, surrounded by toast and butter and tea, Fleur dropped the bra in the middle of the table as casually as if it was the Daily Prophet. Tonks just blinked at it, watching as a strap sank slowly into the jug of milk, the bubbles of the milk sticking to the lace and climbing up the fabric like a small army of bubble ants. She looked at Fleur, happily tearing into a piece of freshly buttered toast, her nose in the fridge, arse sticking out in that way that made it very difficult to focus on much else.

“Do you mind?”

Fleur’s head emerged from above the top of the refrigerator door and raised an eyebrow at her, mumbling something through her mouthful of toast.

Tonks raised her own eyebrow back at her and looked pointedly at the bra.

Fleur chewed and considered before closing the door of the fridge to lean against it.  She hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, already slung low over her hips and pursed her lips at Tonks.

“Do you ‘ave something to say to me?” she asked, punctuating every word, her lips pouting in a slight smile.

“Yeah!” Tonks gesture wildly at the bra in the milk jug, “You leave your clothes everywhere! You never pick up the sitting room, even though it’s completely full of  _ your _ magazines! You cook crazy French sausages at all hours of the night! You smoke like a chimney and drink like a fish and now you’re throwing your underwear at me!” Fleur was still smiling at her with that madening look of self assurance that made her so god damn alluring. “What?” She tried to sound demanding but she had a feeling it came out closer to a whine.

“Is that ‘ow you really feel about me?” she was still smiling and she hadn’t moved, the strip of skin between the top of her jeans and the bottom of her shirt coming through tan and toned, very distracting. 

Tonks felt taken aback. It wasn’t how she  _ felt _ about her… it was just…

“Come ‘ere,” It wasn’t a command, but she stood all the same, stopping herself before she moved around the table.

“Why?”

Fleur raised one shoulder in dismissal of the question, her eyes and mouth still playing that slight smile, as if she had a secret, knew something that Tonks didn’t.

Without thinking too much about it, Tonks moved, crossing her arms and standing a foot away from her, trying to channel the defiance she desperately wanted to feel but was so bloody hard to maintain around this fucking witchy woman…

Fleur reached out a hand, touching her arm, just above the elbow, she blinked slowly, eyes traveling up Tonks’s body to her face. She set her jaw.

“You ‘ave problems with ‘ow I keep ‘ouse, no?”

“I-”

“And you ‘ave not told me any of dis before. Unless I became deaf with out knowing et.”

“Well, I-”

“So, instead of talking to me about dis, you decide to pile my things outside my door for me to find?”

“Fleur-”

“Dat seems a little passive aggressive, do you not think?”

“Fleur-”

“You say now et is because you do not like my things everywhere, dear Tonks, which may be true,”

“I-”

“But I do not think you actually ‘ave too much of a problem with et. Would you like to know how I know dis?”

“I-” Tonks stared at her in bewilderment. What did she-

“I think you like throwing my underwear around,” she grinned, full on at her, her eyes glinting mischievously, “I think you like thinking about my underwear.” Fleurs other hand reached out and rested lightly on Tonks’s hip, she could feel herself melting, heartbeat quickening.  Fleur took hold and pulled herself into an upright position, closing the gap between them with one small step. She leaned forward, whispering in Tonks’s ear, “I think you like thinking about me not wearing my underwear.”

Fleur kissed with the creativity and precision of the French designer who’d made the bra.  Her hands roamed Tonks’s body in a way that made her feel alive and numb all at the same time. And the way she chanted her name when Tonks had hiked down her jeans and sunk her mouth into the fragrant bounty that was her cunt would make Tonks wet for weeks on end.

They’d fucked in the kitchen, up against the fridge, on the counter, almost singeing Fleur’s hair in the over zealous sausage grease. Fleur had threaded her fingers through Tonks hair, pulled her neck back and left bruises that would make a vampire jealous. She’d picked Fleur up then, her tits hanging loose, free from the confinements of clothing left on the kitchen floor and laid her down haphazardly on the sofa, gasping as she had undone her own jeans and pulled them down in two quick movements.

Riding Fleur’s face was a fucking godly experience. Her eyes, dark and full had never once left Tonks’s. She was enthusiastic, skilled, and when Tonks came, shuddering, gasping, clutching the back of the sofa for dear life, into her mouth, Fleur let out a moan that sent shivers up her back and down her legs. 

By the end they tasted of each other, naked, dripping, and moaning together, fingers buried in the other’s cunt. Fleur’s fingers were as dexterous and as strong as the rest of her and Tonks’s clit throbbed against her, small mewls escaping her lips, Fleur catching them with kisses and grins and an outrageous amount of French, only half understood. 

They lay together, on the rug in the middle of the sitting room, legs tangled together, tasting each others sweat and grinning like fools. 

Fleur ran her tongue up from the hollow of Tonks’s neck to her earlobe, making her shiver and grin, “this is what you wanted, no?” her voice teasing as she pressed fresh kisses along her jawline.

Tonks shuddered again, closing her eyes, her hand resting lightly on one of Fleur’s breasts.  She hummed a response that Fleur cut off with another kiss. “Good,” she said, punching the word and letting Tonks roll on top of her, pinning her hands above her head and kissing that fucking beautiful blonde with vigor and relief. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! You can find me on tumblr [here](http://actuallyginnyweasley.tumblr.com)!  
> This was heavily inspired by montparnasse's [Obscural Topography](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430711) which you should all read!


End file.
